


Under Me You Quite So New

by JustJasper



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Body Worship, Fluff, Frottage, Light Angst, M/M, Rimming, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-04-03 09:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4096339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustJasper/pseuds/JustJasper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian loves Iron Bull's big, wonderful body, especially the softest parts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Under Me You Quite So New

**Author's Note:**

> With special thanks to [blythesome](http://archiveofourown.org/users/blythesome) for giving me feelings when we were talking about Dorian loving Bull's chub on twitter.

 “ **In the end, there's only one thing you can believe. Bodies are honest; they don't lie.” - Megan Chance**

The wall of the battlements was as good a place as any to sit and look down into the keep, with a good view over on where the Chargers were training. Amongst the throng, the Iron Bull cut a clear figure, wandering around correcting stances, barking challenges, and shutting down with no real menace the back-talk and grousing that was standard fare for a training session. It was sometimes easy to forget that the Chargers were a company of nearly fifty, not just Bull's inner circle, and he knew them all by name.

“You always like them big?”

Sera was sat beside him with her hands braced on the wall between her legs, and she rocked her weight onto her arms, lifting her backside clear of the stone as she bit her bottom lip. Her eyes tracked the Iron Bull, and if Dorian didn't know her, he'd have thought her entertaining some fantasy involving being ordered around by the impressively large qunari. Being that he did know her, however, he knew she was extrapolating from Iron Bull a vision of a tall, broad lady qunari, with big horns, big muscles, and big breasts.

“Do you mind not pleasuring yourself while you're sat next to me?”

“As if I'd frig myself with you watching,” she snorted. “You always like men big?”

There was no point in denying that he was involved with Iron Bull, least of all to Sera, who had come by Bull's room of a morning more than once under the guise of 'saying hello', but more likely in an attempt to catch them with their trousers down, to give her fuel for making fun of them later.

“They don't come big like that in Tevinter.”

Sera whistled. “Don't think they come big like that anywhere.”

Muscled physiques were not hard to find amongst the nobility of Tevinter; after all, their breeding focused as much on perfect bodies as they did on honing magical talent, but none of them were built for real strength, at least not beyond what it took to swing a staff around. He would be lying to himself if he denied that he'd lusted after the bodies of the manual labourer Soporati he'd see in the city, or the slaves in every household, even if he would never have pursued such affairs. Every fleeting fuck had been with someone who looked like him, toned into the only acceptable form for young Tevinter nobles. The solid cores, barrel chests and thick trunks of men whose strength was for far more than the occasional duel, or for show had certainly fuelled many of his fantasies, but had never been a reality that was in reach, until now.

“What about you, Sera?” He gave up the pretence of reading the book he had open, and snapped it shut. “Have you always liked big, strong women?”

“Not big, always, but strong, yeah. Like Cassandra, all muscles and flex, or when it's all strong but squished down little, like Cadash. Lucky Josephine.”

“I thought you and Dagna were spending _time_ together?”

“Oh, yeah, lots of time.” Sera grinned mischievously at him. “Naked, sweaty time. She uses big tools all day making weird dwarf magic-not-magic things, you should see her arms. _Woof_.”

“So you like your women sweet-faced, with the knowledge she could haul you up over her head like you were a bit of driftwood.”

Sera bit her lip again, rocking forward on her hands.

“Maybe if you don't want me to start frigging myself right here, you shouldn't say sexy things.”

He laughed, the sound ringing out across the keep but lost amongst the sound of clattering wood and metal and shouting below.

\---

“You're staring.”

Dorian was, and he didn't mind being called on it. Iron Bull was sat at the table in his room, sorting through Ben-Hassrath reports or Charger documents. Dorian had been studying the shape of him, his handsome profile and the breadth of his horns, the way the muscles of his arm flexed as he scribbled with a quill.

“I'm deciding how long to let you go on doing paperwork before I ravish you.”

“I have been doing it a while,” Bull said, smiling, but not looking up from his work.

Dorian smirked as he rose from where he'd been reading on the bed, crossed the room and plucked the quill out of Bull's fingers. He'd already stopped writing with it and capped the ink. Dorian tugged him up out of the chair and wound his arms around the trunk of Bull's torso, leaning up to meet Bull halfway for a kiss. The man hummed his contentment into it, hands spread huge and wide on Dorian's bare back. He was so large and so gentle, it quickly made Dorian breathless.

His harness was long gone, boots, belt and brace set aside, only one pair of ridiculous trousers between them. Dorian dragged his hands around Bull's sides as he opened his mouth for the other's tongue, felt along the swell of his belly, the gentle cushion at his hips and waist, the soft middle that covered his powerful core.

He groaned against Bull's mouth, and pulled away enough to speak, hot and breathy and barely an inch between them.

“I _adore_ the shape of you.”

Bull chuckled. “Do you, now?”

“Of course.” Dorian reached up to squeeze at the man's chest, to feel the solid muscle and the soft skin under his hands. He pinched and pulled both the man's nipples next, and Bull groaned, hands faltering where they were unfastening Dorian's trousers. His hands went roaming again, taking advantage of the free range they were allowed all over Bull; his chubby stomach, his chest, his soft hips, strong arms and back and a big, glorious arse-

“Bed?” Bull prompted, pushing Dorian's trousers off his hips. Dorian shuffled them down so they joined Bull's pooled at their feet, and he nodded.

“Lay down.”

He climbed on top of Bull as soon as he was planted, straddling his hips and pressing their erections together. Bull groaned, and Dorian tipped himself forward to kiss him. _Maker_ , he only had to have access to that body for mere moments before his own was crying out to touch, to move, to give over to him. With practised hands, he unwound Bull's eyepatch from his horn and tossed it onto the table beside the bed, revealing the gnarled skin underneath, where there had once been another sharp green eye. Perhaps it was strange to have such a thing, but it was Dorian's favourite scar. Bull so rarely removed the patch anywhere else, but ever since the first time Dorian had asked him to take it off when they were together, he had let it be removed, or taken it off himself, without hesitation. That felt important in a way Dorian didn't know what to do with.

Iron Bull stroked his hands along his thighs, pressed his thumbs under Dorian's hipbones like he knew would make him squirm and moan against his mouth. It was a thrill, a revelation, to be so known.

“Oil,” Dorian said, digging his fingers to Bull's shoulders.

“Eager.”

“That's not a complaint.”

Bull reached for the oil on the bedside blindly, but found it on the first try. “Damn right.”

Dorian took the vial and eased himself back. There were days when they went slow, when they dragged out teasing for hours, hands and mouths used to prepare for fucking long into the night, but just as many times it was fast and needy and wonderful. He dripped oil directly onto their cocks, enough to ease their flesh against each other, and tossed the bottle onto the bed beside them.

“C'mon, big guy.” Bull wrapped his hands around Dorian's thighs again as he lined them up, dragged his hips forward and back over Bull. “That's it.”

Dorian braced his hands on Bull's stomach, the soft luxury of his belly, a firm scar under the fingertips of his right hand, but that part of him was largely devoid of anything as impressive as the ones that graced his arms and chest. He felt so good under Dorian's hands, warm and firm but soft, stomach moving slightly as Dorian rocked on top of him, frotting against him. Their cocks were slick, not enough to relive the friction entirely, but enough to let them slide against each other, hard and aching.

“Dorian.”

His name came out low and breathy from Bull, whose eyelid was heavy and his pupil wide and dark. It wasn't so easy for Bull to communicate what he wanted and what he needed, but Dorian believed with everything he had that Bull wanted _him_. He wanted him in a way many men had wanted him, but simultaneously in a way that nobody had before, in a way that was entirely new to Dorian, that felt like nothing he'd ever had. He wanted that feeling as long as he could have it.

“I _adore_ you,” he told him, breathless and nearly gone. Bull groaned under him, fingers digging into the meat of his thighs.

“I'm close.”

“Good.” He pressed his hips down harder, grinding his cock against Bull's. “You're so good, Bull, I want to make you come.”

The words of encouragement and just a moment's more frantic movement was enough, and Bull grunted as he emptied between them, hips thrusting up hard, head pressed back into the pillows. The added warmth and slick between them made a tiny jolt of static jump across Dorian's knuckles, and his hips stuttered their movements. He was close, so close, pleasuring the Bull, who was looking at him like he was a bright sun breaking through storm clouds, and then he was gone. He groaned, frotting madly against him as he painted their cocks and Bull's belly with his seed, hips juttering him past over-stimulation, unwilling to stop the delicious friction until he was utterly spent.

He was still breathless as he bent down and gave Bull a sloppy kiss, all swollen lips and wet tongue, met in kind. His kissed over his jaw and chin, down his neck and onto his chest. Bull's hands stroked his arms, his back, whatever they could reach as Dorian kissed each side of his chest, making sure to plant his lips in lingering kisses over his hard nipples, then down the glorious swell of his stomach until he reached the dashings of their release that had splattered under the man's navel.

“You're into the belly, today,” Bull rumbled, as Dorian began to lick away the mess, nuzzling at his lover's soft middle.

Dorian hummed, and after a moment made his way back up Bull's chest, kissing between the words. “It's,” a kiss, “a good,” another kiss, “belly.” A final kiss, against his sternum.

“A good place to put your hands when you're riding me?”

“Seems you're generally a great anchor. Belly, horns, arms, arse; there's lots to grab.”

Bull pulled him down for a kiss, and he eased into the shape of him, the way he could feel his body lifted effortlessly each time Bull filled his lungs. Dorian kissed back, wordlessly attesting for the third time that night how much he _adored_ the Iron Bull.

\---

A bath was routine, but having the time to bathe together, to enjoy the novelty of neighbouring bathtubs and easy laughter was a rarer thing. Back in Bull's room Dorian ran heated fingers through his hair, drying it out and turning it fluffy and slightly curly. Usually he hurried to put it right, to tame it into some sort of order, but the way that the Iron Bull looked at him slowed his hand. It didn't matter tonight, it was only going to get mussed again.

From where he was spread out on the bed, naked, he could watch Bull, equally naked, putting logs on the fire, bent at the waist and his generous backside on display. He felt his cock stirring at the sight, and the sense memory of how it felt when he grabbed it with both hands, how it felt pressed flush to his hips, how soft it was under his mouth.

“Come here.” His voice was a tease, but Bull quirked his good brow at him as he straightened up and turned towards him.

“You going to be bossy, tonight?”

“Perhaps. I want you to climb up here and sit on my face.”

Bull laughed. “Dorian..”

He shifted down the bed a little, moving a pillow with him to keep under his head. “What?”

“You'll get crushed.”

“Do you intend to crush me?”

“No.”

“Then get up here and wrap your thighs around my head, please.”

“What's got into you?” Bull asked, even as he begun to climb onto the bed, eyeing his way.

“I want to taste you, while you're all clean and delicious.”

Bull hummed. “Alright. How do you want me?”

“Thighs around my ears,” Dorian said, leering at him. Bull laughed.

“How about you turn around, get your head down the end of the bed, and I climb on?”

“Not your first try, I take?” Dorian swivelled himself around, judging the space Bull's calves would need to support him on the bed.

“I know the best ways, but I'm a bit on the large side, in case you haven't noticed. I've never ridden anyone's face.”

Dorian's cock jolted. “Well, climb on.” Being a first anything for Bull was a feat, and somehow his body found the idea immensely pleasing.

Bull manoeuvred himself carefully onto the bed, and Dorian got a face full of half-hard cock and heavy balls in the attempt. Not that he minded, and he caught one of Bull's balls between his lips, and pulled it into his mouth and sucked.

“Shit,” Bull groaned. Dorian hummed, and that only had Bull moaning again. He let the flesh out of his mouth with a satisfied noise, vision full of Bull, his body radiating heat.

“Come. Sit on my face a little.”

Bull made no attempt to lower himself, peering down over his back at what he could see of Dorian, who craned his neck to meet his gaze. “Your mouth will be busy, so what watch signal do you want to use?”

“Cold hands. I'll give you cold hands if you need to stop and get off quickly.”

Bull nodded, and Dorian reached up to help guide his backside into a good position. He was hard and leaking on his belly already, just thinking about what he was going to do. If Bull got even half the enjoyment out of this that Dorian did when Bull did it to him, he was going to have him begging for it before long.

“I can't see a thing,” he muttered, breath hot against Bull's perineum. “Do you mind if I gave myself a light?”

“As long as you don't put it up my ass.”

Chuckling, Dorian conjured a small orb of light and tethered it to the world an arm's length away, at an angle that gave him all the light he needed. He could see Bull properly under it, all tones of grey, darker than the rest around his crinkled little hole. _The littlest part of him_ , Dorian thought with amusement.

He ignored it first, instead licked a delicate stripe up Bull's perineum from balls to hole, touching neither. He sensed Bull's arms flex where he braced his hands on his knees, and smirked to himself.

He pressed his nose along the skin there and inhaled deeply. Bull smelt of a summer evening in the water gardens of Minrathous, of sweet lilies and prophet's laurel. Below the scent of the soap, he smelt like Iron Bull, like his bedsheets, or their shared tent after a night with their bedrolls pushed together.

He let his lips drags over Bull's hole, delighted to hear the breathy sigh from above him. He dragged the tip of his tongue ever so lightly across the sensitive flesh, feeling each tiny fold of skin, wetting his hole. Then he went back and licked up from behind his balls again, and circled around his opening, avoiding direct contact. He kept doing it, licking around and pressing kisses against his skin, licking his perineum and a couple of times tonguing at his balls, until he could see Bull's hole pucker and relax with anticipation, his body lowering just enough to convey his need.

Finally, he eased his tongue softly against Bull's hole again. The man groaned, thighs flexing beside Dorian's head. He lapped and teased at the little opening, and let the small sounds of effort and enjoyment leave him; Bull would like hearing them.

“Bull,” he said, voice muffled as he pushed his cheeks further apart, giving him better access, “let me guide your hips. I won't let you suffocate me, don't worry.”

Bull laughed breathlessly above him, and lowered his body as Dorian pressed his fingers into the swell of his arse and pulled him down. His nose pressed against Bull, but he could still breath, and if he just moved a tiny bit – yes, Bull's hole was right against his mouth. He moved his tongue in earnest then, lapping at the little pucker, licking around the edge and teasing the centre with the pointed tip of his tongue. He tasted strong and heady like when he sucked his cock, and it was everywhere. He'd closed his eyes, no longer needing to see what he as doing with such clarity, and let the little orb of light fade away into a wisp of magic that felt nothing as good as the way his cock twitched in response to Bull moaning above him.

“You still breathing down there?” Bull's words were husky and slightly laboured, and instead of answering, Dorian pushed his tongue against Bull's ring of guarding muscle. “Shit!”

He wiggled his tongue inside as Bull swore repeatedly above him, felt the man's knees splay wider as he pushed down into the sensation. _Perfect_. He thrust his tongue in and out a little way, fucking him on his tongue, and Bull's rumbling, rolling moans were a constant above him. He was never quiet, the pair of them could barely manage to muffle their noises in a tent, but there was something loose and desperate about the sound, something he didn't hear in him as often as he wished he could. He wanted Bull to fall apart around him.

He pressed his tongue up hard, not a particularly large muscle, not as large as Bull's, certainly, but enough to have Bull pushing down onto him, growling and finally suffocating him. Panic flared like a match failing to light, sparking and dying quickly. He couldn't breath, but he was fine, he was good. He pushed on Bull's backside a little, and the man eased up a fraction, enough so could breath again.

Bull was opening up, his tongue finding an easier way in with each pass across and around and then in, pressing deep and flicking when he'd pushed the muscle as far in as he could. He wanted the man to lose himself on his tongue, wanted to feel him come. Bull pressed back again, harder this time, grinding his hips down as Dorian wriggled his tongue inside him, didn't even think about not being able to breath. He had long seconds where it didn't matter, and by the time it did, Bull was easing up again, panting.

He let his hands wander away from his backside, tongue planted deep enough to keep him on task, and stroked along the man's thighs. They flexed under his hand, powerful muscle covered with soft flesh, which he dig his fingertips into.

“Dorian,” Bull panted, “Dorian, I'm close, I could- a hand. Please.”

Dorian pulled his tongue loose and pushed Bull up an inch so he could be heard. “Touch yourself. Come for me.” With that, he pulled Bull's hole back onto his tongue, and fucked him feverishly, flicking inside him and teasing the twitching ring of muscle, hands spreading his cheeks wide once again.

He could feel Bull's body shaking, from being fucked with a wet, eager tongue and because he was stroking himself, and he had to grip him hard to stop him thrusting his tongue loose. Dorian was awed at all the power under his hands, Bull completely useless under the pleasure of one small muscle in one small place, his lover lost and groaning and so close to breaking open above him.

He came with a shout, striping Dorian's belly with his release, and his hole cramped tight around Dorian's tongue, enough that Dorian groaned against him and wiggled it deeper, tongue-fucking him through his climax. He sounded more wrecked than he'd heard in a long time, stretched thin and thighs quaking with the effort of holding himself up. Dorian slowed, fucked him gently as his orgasm subsided, relished the feel of his muscle pulsing around his tongue. He licked around him kissed him there, bringing things to a stop slowly as Bull sagged.

He moved up and sideways finally, careful not to kick Dorian as he collapsed in a heap next to him, and comparatively cool air met Dorian's heated face. Bull, a true gentleman, eased his hand around Dorian's erection and began to stroke him, slick with some of his own release, and Dorian thrust his hips into his fist, let himself chase his release right through, no will to deny himself left. He came all over Bull's hand, groaning, with his with the backs of his wrists pressed to his forehead, the taste of Bull on his mouth.

“You're so good,” Bull panted, spreading his hand out on Dorian's belly, no mind paid to the semen all over it. “So good.”

“Am I selfish about sex? I feel like I don't eat your arse nearly as much as I should.”

“You're not selfish.”

“Still.” He blew a cool breath upwards, making his hair dance around his damp forehead. “I want to do it more often. You have such a pretty little hole, I'd like to be better acquainted.”

Bull's tired snort of laughter made him grin. “Pretty, is it?”

“Delicious, too.”

Bull sighed, rumbling and content. “You're so good. Come up here.”

Dorian murmured a half-hearted protest at having to move, but crawling into Bull's waiting embrace was ultimately better than lying top-to-toe with him. Bull took the cloth from the bedside table and wiped the worst of the mess off them, and Dorian thought about how in the morning the drying flakes of semen on them would be a great reason to go for another bath together, although it was not as if Bull would even take that much convincing. He settled at Bull's side and threw a hand across his soft belly, nuzzling against him as he savoured the taste of him on his tongue.

\---

Dorian had come to accept that some time within the next year, Varric would publish a book about a Tevinter mage and a Qunari spy, and there was nothing he could do to stop it, except deny the man any opportunity to make the portrayal accurate or realistic. It was a hard task, when any number of their friends were happy to help the dwarf in his endeavour, offering details, descriptions, or even just theory about their sex life. Iron Bull was not much better, and had been plying Varric with ale to try and worm details out of him, or to offer more suggestions about passion and such things.

“Rotund? You're going to call a Qunari Ben-Hassrath spy, who is also a swashbuckling pirate 'rotund'?” Bull only sounded a little annoyed, his glare at Varric mostly for show.

“I have to stick true to the way my characters come to me.” Varric grinned across at Dorian, who rolled his eyes.

It was just the three of them at the table by now, Sera having ducked out to go talk to someone called 'Widdle', and the Chargers dispersed to a game of cards in the corner, or to where Krem had unwittingly gathered a gaggle of admirers around him because he'd taken off his armour and his sleeveless tunic made a show of his frankly breathtaking arms.

“I'm going for a degree of realism here, Tiny,” Varric was saying when Dorian dragged his attention away from said arms. “Characters are more believable if they don't look perfect, if they've gone pasture a bit.”

“You're a mean dwarf, you know that?” Bull said, but he was grinning.

“Truth hurts, friend,” Varric quipped back, rising to his feet. “I'm going for a piss, then I'll get the next round, show you how mean I am.”

Bull huffed a breath and waved him away, smiling at his retreating back. He leaned back in his chair, and tilted his head at Dorian, who was watching him easily.

“You should have seen me on Seheron.” Bull patted his belly with a huge hand. “I was strong and fit, in my prime.”

It seemed an odd thing for him to say; Seheron was not drinks conversation, not usually jokes conversation either. There was something uneasy about Bull, and Dorian realised after a few seconds of considering him that Bull was worried.

“You think I'd rather have you then?” Dorian raised an eyebrow at him as he drunk from his tankard.

“I don't know. You think you would?”

“No. I much prefer the thought of you drinking to excess, eating as much as a giant, and sneaking pilfered sweets into your room than whatever body you had-” He waved his hand in the air beside him, unable to finish the thought: _When you were on Seheron, where you saw such terrible things you wanted to die_.

Bull took a long pull from his mug, watching him the whole time. He thought the man knew vaguely what Dorian was thinking about, but he wished he could express to him how horrible it was to think of Seheron, even considering what little he knew. The thought of Bull not wanting to go on, of being dead-eyed and carved hollow in a blood-soaked jungle was constant enough in his dreams that he didn't want the thoughts in waking, too. There was nothing that could make him wish for Iron Bull's Seheron days, least of all some hypothetical chiselled body.

“Ignore Varric,” he said, before the conversation could turn sombre. “Your body is my favourite body.”

Bull smiled, and _Maker,_ was that a dark flush to his cheeks? “Sweet talker.”

Dorian grinned, and tried to hide it in his tankard as he took another drink. “If that makes it into Varric's book, I'll set you on fire.”

Bull huffed a laugh, and because Dorian knew he was watching, he let his eyes wander over his body appreciatively. He needed Bull to understand how perfect his body was, strong and hard, delicate and soft and all at once, how good he was. He licked his lips, and met Bull's eyes with a silent promise to show him how much he liked his body when they retired to his room.

“ **We're all just in our bodies for a moment in our life. Such a brave and lovely act it is to let the body celebrate.” - Tom Spanbauer**

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from this poem:
> 
> i like my body when it is with your  
> body. It is so quite a new thing.  
> Muscles better and nerves more.  
> i like your body. i like what it does,  
> i like its hows. i like to feel the spine  
> of your body and its bones, and the trembling  
> -firm-smooth ness and which i will  
> again and again and again  
> kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,  
> i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz  
> of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes  
> over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs,
> 
> and possibly i like the thrill
> 
> of under me you quite so new
> 
> \--- EE Cummings


End file.
